


Giliath and Anor

by badlifechoices



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Father/Son Incest, M/M, first part is pre hobbit, obviously, second part is post LotR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3119003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badlifechoices/pseuds/badlifechoices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil and Legolas are reunited after the third age has ended and the war of the ring is over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Giliath and Anor

Sometimes it bothered Legolas that no one ever spoke about his mother. In his early years he had learnt not to ask his father about it because for king Thranduil the grief was still too near to overcome and he would become quiet and reclusive whenever his son brought the topic of his _nana_ up. Not that he would act cold towards him, he would just be very quiet. Sometimes he would tell him how beautiful his wife had been and then he would look at his son and say that he looked just like her with such an expression of longing on his face that it broke the elfling’s heart.

Legolas hated it when his father was quiet and sad, so he decided that it was better not to ask him at all. The nursemaids would only tell him how kind their queen had been. The Chief of the royal guard only told him that she had been a remarkable warrior, strong and swift with sword and bow. But no one would tell him stories about her like they did with the others that had left for the halls of Mandos. They were too afraid of their king who had not taken his queen’s death very well. Legolas didn’t blame him though, no one dared to. It was known that most elves only really fall in love once in their lives and this love they will keep for the rest of their existence. So for Thranduil to have lost his other half was like losing a part of his soul. The kingdom had lost their beloved queen and no one wanted the never healing wound to break open and bleed again.

So it was only when he was but thirty years old, still a babe for elven standards that Legolas found out he had something left of his mother after all. He had been wandering in the gardens, hidden beneath low hanging trees and along the small rivers. The whispering of the wind in the leaves and the song of the running water soothed him whenever his heart seemed to yearn for something that could not be found within the halls of the palace. Often had he wished to venture out of the great halls and into the forest, sometimes he even imagined how it would be beyond the borders. But according to his father’s words he was still too young to leave the sanctity of his home and he did not wish to disappoint his father.

There was one tree there, in the gardens, that was higher and older than all the others and when the young elf climbed high enough he could see the stars. It was his favourite hideout ever since he had discoverer it by accident.

Tonight though, he didn’t feel like climbing the great tree. Instead he found shelter underneath its branches. There was another tree, right next to it: It was a young tree with light green leaves and a bark as white as the snowflakes that sometimes danced through the gardens. Legolas felt like there was something different about that tree, its leaves didn’t tell any stories and the wind didn’t whisper in them; it had no voice unlike the other trees around them.

“You left in a hurry.” Came a voice from his right, merely a heartbeat after his ears picked up the sound of light footsteps. “Lord Elrond worries he has said something to offend you.”

The young elfling only shook his head, though he took a quick look at his father to make sure Thranduil wasn’t mad at him for his rude behaviour. But there was no reproach in his _ada’s_ eyes. They were soft as always when he was around his son, the only one who got to see this gentle, caring side of the great king. There was even a little smile dancing around his lips, as he gracefully sat down next to his young _ion_.

“I apologise, _ada_. It was nothing the lord said that upset me…” He hesitated for a moment, not quite sure if he was supposed to reveal the real reason for his leaving the banquet. “The twins could not stop talking about their mother and for some reason it hurt me.”

Legolas feared his ada would go quiet again, maybe even leave him here in the gardens alone. He already cursed himself for bringing up the topic, for not being able to conceal his emotions and thoughts as well as his father could. But Thranduil stayed. His eyes were filled with sadness as he looked at his son and his fingertips gently brushed away the tears from Legolas’ cheeks.

“You should not be ashamed of your feelings, my little leaf. It is never easy to lose someone who is important to you. And it will always hurt when you hear other people talk about how happy they are with their loved ones.” The great woodland king tilted his head and watched his son shake his head.

“I want to be strong like you, _ada_! You never cry, not in front of everyone and you never run away.” With the back of his hand he violently rubbed his eyes to chase away the tears threatening to fall.

To his surprise his father wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. “Did you know that whenever a couple receives a child, they plant a tree in these gardens?”

The young elfling shook his head; he had not heard anything about this tradition but it intrigued him. “And when the child grows, so grows the tree. The tree we are sitting underneath is the one my parents planted on the day of my birth and this one-“ He pointed at the young, white tree to their left. “-Is the one your mother planted for you. It is as old as you.”

Legolas looked upon the tree that was according to his father his birthtree. “But it is so small! And it doesn’t speak like all the others do.”

“That is because it is still young. It will grow tall and strong and it will bloom in beauty and grace. And when it is older it will have many stories to tell and everyone around will listen to him in awe. My own tree was like that once, young and mute. But like I did it grew older and now it’s branches reach higher than all the other trees. Your mother, she chose the seed for this tree because she knew it would be strong and beautiful one day. She said that its blossoms would be like starlight.”

The younger elf was quiet then, looking in wonder at the tree that his mother had chosen to be his. When his father got back to his feet he stayed, leaning against the tree in his back. “I have to return to the great hall or Lord Elrond will wonder if he has offended the both of us.” The soft smile still lingered on his features, as he leant down to place a kiss on his son’s forehead. There was still a hint of sadness in his eyes but the youth and innocence of his child warmed his heart.

That night Legolas did not return to his sleeping quarters. Instead he spent the night in the branches of the great tree, watching the stars rise on the dark horizon. Somehow here, he felt close to his _ada_ , like Thranduil was still there to embrace him and he slept well on his bed of leaves.

 

* * *

 

 

It was long years – centuries even – later that Thranduil found himself wandering among the trees in the garden. As always in these times he found himself drawn to the great tree that had been his shelter for so often. It was blooming, the golden blossoms shining in their own light and caressed by the gentle breeze of spring. It was still the highest tree out of the ones in the garden but the young tree at his side had grown tall and strong over the years. To everyone’s surprise they had leant into each other, branches embracing each other and ranks of green growing around them. The white tree had only started to bloom about two years ago.

The day that Legolas left, left his home and his father’s side for the first time since he had returned from his journey to find the ranger in the north. Then too had the king been wandering through the gardens of his home, had looked upon the falling leaves with worry. Many of the once undying trees were growing weaker as the elves left Middle earth but the two great trees had still been strong. That day after his son had started on his journey to inform the Lord Elrond about Gollum’s escape, the king had found the first blossom on the white tree. Silver were they and they shined like the starlight that he so often saw reflected in Legolas’ eyes. His wife had been right, it was the most beautiful tree in the gardens, maybe in all of middle earth and yet it had chosen to entwine with the golden tree at his side, binding them together for the rest of their lives.

Now again he was looking up at the two trees, his palm resting against the white bark. He tried to listen to the whisper of the leaves, tried to decipher the soft voice, hoping it would tell him of his son’s fate. No one knew what had happened to Legolas, no news had found their way to Mirkwood about the fellowship in the last months. Rumours were spreading that the evil had been defeated, that the shadow had left middle earth once and for all and the spiders were retreating. The trees of Mirkwood were healing but Thranduil refused to base his hope on just rumours and uncertainties.

Until he heard word from Legolas himself, until he held his beloved child in his arms once again he wouldn’t rest. And the days had passed by so slowly and arduously. For elves a year, even two is nothing for their lives span centuries, millennia often. And yet the past two years had been filled with dread and sorrow and it seemed like it had been two thousand years instead since his son left him.

“ _Hîr vuin_ , Thranduil.“ The voice of the guard rougher than the tree’s whispering and his steps were too loud on the grass of the floor. Legolas’ steps had always been soft and careful, almost soundless. His voice was gentle and sweet. The Sindar were known for their beautiful singing voices and yet no one here could compare to the prince. Thranduil missed listening to him sing, just as he missed everything about him: His spirit, his energy, his stubbornness. The way his fingers danced on Thranduil’s skin, the way he could even make him forget about the old wounds resting under it, the way his eyes shone in the starlight, the way he moved and spoke… It was almost unbearable for the older elf to think about Legolas for too long and yet he couldn’t stop remembering everything about him.

“What is it, Haewil?” The guard approached him slowly though she didn’t dare to step under the low hanging branches of the king’s tree.

“The border patrol brings news of a party that has crossed the borders of the kingdom.” With her head bowed, she focused on the leaves to her feet, obviously too afraid to lock eyes with her lord. She was young, had only recently joined the guard. Almost too young, the elvenking thought, but they were at war and they needed every soldier they had.

“What with him?” He asked coolly, neither his voice, nor his face betraying any emotions.

“ _Hîr vuin_ , they said that prince Legolas is among the party. There is also a dwarf and one of the marchwardens of Lórien.”

She went on to report but the ruler of Mirkwood had heard enough. With a gesture he mentioned for her to be quiet and turned to leave the gardens. Despite the excitement, fear, worry and joy were rushing through him, he retained his self-restraint. As much as his heart him to run and greet his son at the doors, there was no way he could do something as childish as that. So instead of heading for the doors, he returned to the throne room and took the place that had been his since the death of his father, Oropher.

He questioned the guard again if she knew anything about his son’s condition, whether he was hurt but she couldn’t answer him, for she didn’t know. Thranduil tried not to let his thoughts stray too much but he couldn’t stop wondering if Legolas was well.

His worries were interrupted by the great doors swinging open and a crowd of elves filtering in. There was chatter and excitement and joy coloured the voices. Everyone seemed to want to greet their prince, welcoming him back home after his dangerous quest, asking about his companions and the stories he surely had to tell. What Thranduil couldn’t make out was his son’s voice until the crowd parted to reveal the three friends. And there he was, golden hair flowing over his shoulders, blue eyes, bright and vibrant like the sky above. Dirt from the road and the long trek stained his robes and yet he was beautiful as he has always been, maybe even more so. Thranduil didn’t even glance at his son’s company as he waved Legolas forward. It was difficult to stay serious when he seemed to be overflowing with joy to have his _ion_ back at his side.

It was when Legolas knelt down in front of the throne, bowing his head in respect, that Thranduil saw that he was no longer the same. His appearance hadn’t change, yet there was something different about him. The quest, the war had changed him, had left a weight on his shoulders and a weight on his heart. And in his eyes, in his eyes there was no longer starlight. Instead Thranduil thought he could see the see in them, the great waves. Like all Sindar elves did he feel the longing for the sea in the west but when he had Legolas around him, it would always fade.

And still, the moment his son raised his head again, to step closer, not even waiting for his king’s approval before he wrapped his arms around his _ada_ , he felt that everything was alright now. He would learn to know this new Legolas, would discover everything there was about him. So as long as the bond between the two of them was not broken, no shadow would lie over them. And as the even magic around them faded, they would leave these shores like the rest of their kin did. They would cross the sea together.

Once Legolas had stepped back, the king motioned for him to take the place beside him. It had been too long since the younger elf had been here, where he belonged and he wasn’t going to let him leave his sight again. So he hurried through the introduction of Haldir of Lothlórien and Gimli, son of Gloin, king of the lonely mountain – how ironic that his son would choose a dwarf as his friend and companion. He ordered for his servants to find suitable quarters for the guests, as well as refreshments and then commanded everyone else to clear the room. The disappointed murmuring of the elves who longed to hear stories of the prince’s great adventures, didn’t concern him. They would all get the time to question Legolas later, right now the prince belonged to his king alone.

When the other elves had headed back to whatever task they had been seen to before the arrival of the prince and his party, Thranduil rose from his throne. Quickly he drew Legolas into his arms once more, holding him close and revelling in his warmth. He let the familiar and soothing scent fill his mind, before he felt the younger elf pull back ever so slightly. Questioning he looked down at him but when instead of stepping back, Legolas brought their lips together in a gentle kiss, happiness bubbled up once again in his chest. Sighing into the kiss he pulled his _ion_ closer. He tasted different but this could only be because this was none of the memories he has replayed so often in the last months: The softness of Legolas’ lips against his own, the sweet taste of sunshine…

Parting again, the king took the younger elf’s hand, unwilling to break contact, as he led them out of the throne room. They made their way to the gardens and despite the time he had spent here over the course of the last two years, everything seemed so much brighter now, that the sun had returned to his heart.

“It has grown tall.” Legolas whispered as they approached the two trees in the centre of the garden, his gaze filled with wonder as it fell upon the blossoms. “ _Nana_ was right, it is beautiful.”

The king however had no eye for the trees this night, he was unable to tear his gaze away from the beautiful creature at his side. Under the embracing trees, they laid down, gazing into each other’s eyes. Neither of them spoke, for words were unable to describe what they felt. Thranduil’s fingertips traced his son’s cheek like he had done so many times since he had been a babe and the younger elf reached out for him in return.

Shifting closer Thranduil wordlessly asked him for permission and when Legolas gave a little nod, he moved to strip him of his clothes. The beauty of his little leaf took his breath away like he had never seen him this way. His pale skin contrasted the dark grass underneath him and his blue eyes were darkened with desire. Yet he didn’t move when his _ada_ ran his fingers all over his skin, searching for scars and other traces the war might’ve left. But his child’s skin was still flawless, the only stain was upon his heart and soul. And the king vowed to do anything in his might to drive the shadow away.

Legolas and his friends saved middle earth from the darkness, Thranduil would save him from the darkness inside his heart.

As his fingers mapped the body of his lover once more, he could feel Legolas react, soft sounds falling from his thin lips. Impatience stirred inside him, the desire to take him and make him his again in this very moment but he fought it off as best as he could. He had been waiting for this too long to just let it happen in a rush. Now that they were reunited, they had every time in the world.

So he continued in his exploration, lips and tongue soon joining his fingers in their quest, tracing muscles and invisible lines on the younger elf’s skin.

“ _Ada_ … _saes_.” The only moment when he loved Legolas’ voice more than when he was singing, was in these moments of passion, when his voice was darkened and soft like velvet, causing a shiver of need to run down the king’s spine.

“ _Man_? What is it you want, my little leaf?” He whispered in return, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses on the prince’s hipbone.

Looking down with eyes that seemed to hold the whole world in them, the younger elf reached out, running his hands through the ivory hair and over his ada’s face. Anyone else’s touch would remind him of his old injuries, hidden under the skin but Legolas fingers were like a healing balm, soothing every pain, taking his mind away from every sorrow. “You, _ada._ All of you, _saes –_ please _…”_ And, oh, how could he refuse this wonderful being, who had seduced him away from all his promises, morals and regrets so long ago, who had made his heart swell with love again and sent fire coursing through his veins?

“Anything for you.” His voice was raw with lust, as he let Legolas pull him up again and slowly undo his robes. Everywhere these long, skilled fingers touched was set on fire, heating his body up until it felt like he was bursting. He was not the one in control anymore, he was completely and utterly lost, left at the mercy of this heavenly creature. A moan fell from his lips as the younger elf began sucking on his fingers, coating them with saliva, their eyes still locked.

He was barely able to look away once Legolas had let go of his fingers and spread his long legs so he could slip between them. There were no words between them, just the soft music of Legolas’ sighs and moans as he worked him open and the loud gasp that escaped his throat, when Thranduil found this one spot inside him.

“ _Ada!”_ It was all the encouragement that he needed, removing his fingers and moving back up to pull his son into a passionate kiss as he buried himself inside him with one forceful thrust. He swallowed the other’s moan and combed one hand through the silken hair. It took him all of his self-restraint to give Legolas time to adjust to the intrusion for the tight heat around him was enough to rid him of all sense.

But he didn’t have to wait for much longer when the prince writhed underneath him, uttering a little whine. “ _A.. av-'osto, ada._ Move.“

„My little leaf…“ He breathed in return, joining their hands on the forest floor and entwining their fingers.

Thranduil did his best to keep a rhythm of long, powerful thrusts but once Legolas started moving his hips to meet him, he felt his instincts taking over. Quickening his pace, he shifted until he heard his lover gasp, surging against him. Once again their lips joined as he did his best to brush that sweet spot with each of his thrusts. He didn’t even have to reach for Legolas’ manhood to make him come undone, the time apart and the intensity of the fire between them was enough to push the younger elf over the edge. With a cry he spent himself between their bodies. Stars dancing before his eyes, he shuddered violently, voice breaking, as he tried to utter his father’s name.

The way Legolas’ clenched down around him and the sound of his melodic voice in his ears was all the elvenking could take and he too cried out as he came, holding tightly onto his lover’s hands, as his hips stuttered. Gasping for air they both revelled in the throes of their passion, pressed close even after Thranduil left the prince’s body to lie next to him.

“ _Gi melin, ada.”_ It was merely a whisper and yet it made the king’s heart swell with affection. Gently, he let his fingertips wander once more over his son’s cheek before he brought their lips together in a sweet, slow kiss.

A soft smile spread over his features, as he felt Legolas relax in his arms and his breathing deepen. “ _Gi melin, ionneg.”_ He murmured, brushing his lips over the younger elf’s forehead, before he too let the exhaustion roll over him. And so they both fell asleep, arm in arm. And above their sleeping bodies not unlike the two royal elves the two trees, gold and silver, moon and sun, embraced each other in undying beauty.

 

\--

 

 _Giliath - stars  
_ _Anor - sun  
_ _Nana - mum_  
Ada - dad Ion - son  
 _Hîr vuin_ \- My lord  
Saes - Please  
Man? - What?  
A _v-'osto_ \- Don't be afraid/fear not  
 _Gi melin_ \- I love you

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with the whole tree thing myself because I know certain cultures practice this tradition and I personally really like the idea. Especially given the strong connection between the elves and the woods.
> 
> also Haldir because I shall never accept his death in the movies as canon


End file.
